Morning in Kyoto

I set an alarm for four-forty in the morning. In Kyoto, this is not early enough. The bakers have been at their ovens since three, and the temple bells begin at five.

The city before itself

Walk down the stone slope of Sannenzaka before dawn and you can hear the wooden shutters of a hundred houses breathing. A single monk sweeps a courtyard. A cat regards you with an expression of ancient, dignified boredom.

Kyoto in the afternoon belongs to everyone. Kyoto at five in the morning belongs to itself.